The Alpha and The Enforcer [TATE]

Chapter 41

Ellie's P.O.V

After nearly an hour of driving, the towering trees began to thin, and the car rolled steadily onto a paved road lined with thick ironwood fences. The forest's dense cover gave way to scattered wooden homes, each surrounded by well-maintained gardens and smoke curling from chimneys. We were finally here, Silvermane Pack.

My stomach twisted.

The Silvermane Pack has a reputation that makes most wolves step back. They're not only the third-largest and most powerful pack in North America, they're also one of the most ruthless. Strength is a requirement here, not a trait. Every male, from the age of fifteen, is trained to fight. Not just trained, shaped, molded, and sharpened into living weapons. But the females? They weren't allowed on the battlefield. Tradition and brutality go hand in hand here, and tradition dictated that women serve as caregivers, teachers, medics, but never warriors.

Even now, that belief lingered like a stale scent.

The last time I came here, I was barely accepted. Even by the women. I never truly belonged. I wasn't one of them. I spoke up too much, trained too much, and stood too tall next to their Alpha. And I defied Lucas, my mate, more times than I could count. That made me a threat, not a Luna.

Now I was back. But I wasn't the same girl they rejected.

The car slowed as we reached the gate, the towering iron structure guarded by two tall, broad-shouldered men in full gear. They approached the window and exchanged quick words with the driver before stepping back. The gate groaned open, and we rolled in.

My breath caught as the familiar village came into view. The lower division. Rows of vendor stalls lined both sides of the road, hawking everything from herbs to weapons. Behind them stood the grand market building, a tall, boxy structure made of gray stone and dark wood beams. Wolves bustled in and out, young pups tugging at their mothers' skirts, warriors with training gear slung over their backs.

I remembered walking these same paths with Lucas years ago. How he used to explain the caste system like it were something noble.

"They chose to be here," he'd said. "They wanted independence."

But I'd always known better. They were forced to work harder, to prove themselves more, just to survive without the protection of the pack house. And when I'd dared to question it? He shut me down.

"It's not your pack," he'd told me. "You don't make the rules."

Now I wanted to ask, what if I had tried harder? What if I had pushed more, screamed louder, fought longer? Would it have made a difference?

The village disappeared behind us, swallowed by another stretch of forest. I turned from the window with a sigh.

"You alright, Enforcer Ellie?" Brandon, one of the warriors accompanying me, leaned forward slightly from his seat. His sandy-brown hair fell into his eyes as he studied me with concern.

"I'm fine," I said with a tight nod. "Thanks, Brandon."

He nodded, sitting back but keeping his eyes on me just a few seconds longer. Brandon was one of Uncle Ted's students. Talented, disciplined, and clearly overprotective.

The trees parted again, and the pack house came into view. My breath hitched.

It was just as grand as I remembered, soft cream paint covering the tall exterior, framed by dark stone columns. The windows gleamed like mirrors, and the lawn was trimmed to perfection. Flowerbeds bloomed in a burst of crimson and gold near the entrance, and the driveway sparkled faintly from the polished stones embedded in the path.